


Live in the Moment

by Pyreite



Series: Conversations with Adaar [7]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Betrayal, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Fade Spirits, First Crush, Freedom, Game Spoilers, Jaws of Hakkon, Light Angst, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Post-Exalted Council, Post-Trespasser DLC, Qun-Loyal Iron Bull, Reaver Specialisation, Romance, Sequel, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 02:30:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5726425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyreite/pseuds/Pyreite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>[Post DA:I and Post Trespasser DLC]</b><i> Sequel to -</i> <span class="u">Hakkon Wintersbreath sends his regards.</span></p><p>Months after the Exalted Council and the disbanding of the Inquisition, Adaar thinks she is alone in the world. Her oath to Bull is broken. Her lover is dead, but another wants to step into his place. Adaar returns to her quarters to find an unexpected guest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Live in the Moment

**Author's Note:**

> _**Warning:** Contains mature themes, light citrus without actual lemonade, reference to the death of a canon character, a relationship between a Fade spirit and a Vashoth warrior, reference to the imbibing of dragon's blood, a sentient and sapient animal pelt, mentions of magic, and a future wolf-hunt._

Adaar retreated to her quarters high above Skyhold. The fortress felt more like a tomb than a home. The last lingering souls were planning their return trips to Fereldan and Orlais. Adaar wouldn't be joining the mass migration. She had more pressing concerns.

Adaar paused on the stairwell. Her clawed hand gripped the stone banister. She exhaled a mouthful of mist, the air was crisp and cool as if winter had seeped through the mortared bricks. She looked across the room to the burning hearth. The fire hissed and crackled as several logs were cast into the flames.

Adaar wondered how the intruder had entered the room. It had been empty when she'd joined Leliana, Cullen, and Josephine for a meal in the Herald's Rest. A glance at the balcony provided the answer. The iron-wrought doors were thrown wide to reveal snow-capped mountains. Her guest had likely sprouted wings and flown to the fortress's tallest tower.

Adaar suspected he had come to settle their score. She shivered in the frigid breeze that blew inside. The sound of her chattering teeth caught her visitor's attention. The wind, colder than normal, sucked the heat out of the fire. The banked flames sputtered like a dimming candle in danger of extinguishing.

The room darkened.

The temperature plummeted.

Adaar rubbed her forearms. The cold penetrated the thin layer of her surcoat. The fine fur-lined leather provided some protection against the chill. Adaar doubted she'd survive the night if her guest wasn't more careful. She glared at the hooded figure smothering the only source of heat inside her chambers.

" _Vashedan_!" cursed Adaar. "Rein in your magic before I freeze to death!"

She tensed on hearing his rumbling laugh. The mirthful sound resonated like a bell tolling inside a Chantry steeple. Adaar scowled when a blast of cold wind ruffled her hair. The thick braid came loose, as if by magic, its leather cord snapping. Adaar was annoyed when her hair unravelled.

The tresses, wavy like the sea, cascaded over her shoulders in a bloody waterfall.

The Iron Bull wasn't the only man in Thedas with a penchant for red-heads.

"Stop this game!" snarled Adaar. " _Now_!"

She flinched when something cool brushed her cheek. The touch was brief and intimate like a lover's caress. Adaar grimaced at the reminder of the beau she'd lost. Only Bull had dared to be so affectionate in the privacy of her quarters. She was unimpressed by her guest's forwardness.

" _Parshaara_!"

The laughter subsided like a sinking iceberg. The room was quiet in the wake of Adaar's incensed cry. She flinched when the balcony doors' slammed shut. She caught the scent of ice in the air. The glacial bite put Adaar on edge.

She recognised the smell of winter mingled with a dragon's earthy musk.

Only one beast had reeked of frost and steel.

"So you've found me at last", said Adaar. "The Augur warned me you would come".

She exhaled shakily when the hearth glowed red-gold. Light and heat returned as tongues of flame blackened the added fuel. The logs burned suffusing the air with warmth. Adaar watched as her guested turned around. He had covered himself from head to toe in a shroud of black fur.

Eyes, blue like the sky, peered out from under an ebony hood. Adaar was pierced by a gaze as old as the mountains. She trembled when his hands emerged from the pelt's voluminous folds. Scales shone like polished coins in the firelight. Adaar was anxious as taloned fingers gripped the edge of the fur.

The hood was pulled back to reveal snowy-white hair.

Adaar stared, heart in her throat, when she saw dusky skin. The angular shape of his jaw was accentuated by thin brindle stripes. The pattern continued over the planes of his cheeks and the slopes of his temples. The prominent ridges of his brows reminded Adaar of the Iron Bull. The horns sweeping back over the crown of his head spiralled into two sharp points.

Adaar saw the tips of elven ears protruding from his ivory mane. The wiry hair looked thick and fine enough to be feather-soft. He was handsome in the way of the Qunari, but Adaar saw things that were unnerving. His dusky skin was pebbled with scales, large and small, that covered every inch of his face. The scales were streaked in shades of brown and white.

The colours of earth and sky favoured by the Avvar.

Adaar remembered the barbarians crushing their enemies with a swing of their war-hammers. She had fought alongside Svarah Sunhair's people in the battle to break the Jaws of Hakkon. Gurd Harofsen and his followers had fallen to the Inquisition's standing army. The danger had trebled when the High Dragon bound to the soul of Hakkon Wintersbreath had taken wing. The ensuing fight and later victory had earned Adaar her legend-mark.

Only one adopted daughter of Stone-Bear Hold was named First-Thaw.

"Hakkon Wintersbreath", called Adaar. "Firstborn son of Korth, the Mountain-Father, and the Avvarian god of winter and warfare".

The corners of his mouth curled upward in a smile. Adaar saw a hint of sharp canines as his cheeks dimpled. She bit her lip when he chuckled. The husky resonance of his voice made her blush. He was easy on the eyes for a man with scaled skin and the twisting horns of a ram.

"I know the Avvar consider an oath binding until it is broken", said Adaar. "My lover is dead and I'm free again".

She had an idea why he'd come. The Augur had passed along Hakkon's praise with a kiss. Adaar recalled the warmth of those chapped lips against her own. She had vicariously experienced Hakkon's passion through Stone-Bear Hold's mage-shaman. The thane, Svarah Sunhair, had grinned for weeks afterwards.

Hakkon shrugged off the black fur. Adaar ogled his bare skin. The scales continued down his throat to his shoulders. He was as tall as the Iron Bull and just as muscular. The fur fell away from the broad barrel of his chest to drape over his forearms. Adaar saw chiselled pectorals and a toned stomach slashed by bands of brown and white.

A plethora of scales gleamed in the firelight. Hakkon smirked when Adaar's eyes trailed downward to the patch of white hair below his navel. The black fur looped around his waist like a belt, concealing what lay south of his abdomen. He was pleased by Adaar's appraisal. The way she averted her eyes, when he caught her staring, showed how flustered she was.

" _Maker's balls_!" groaned Adaar. "Why did you choose to look like one of my people?"

Hakkon arched an ivory brow. He gestured to Adaar with a casual flick of his clawed fingers. The stern look on his face told her how much effort had gone into fashioning his current form. Adaar had read Varric's – Tale of the Champion. The Arishok, captured in vivid dwarven prose, had left a lasting impression.

Adaar wondered if Hakkon had drawn inspiration from the Qunari occupation of Kirkwall. His dusky skin, muscular physique, and pale hair validated her suspicions. He did not resemble the Arishok in Varric's book, but he was a fine example of a virile male. Adaar's face purpled when the Avvarian deity offered his hand. He beckoned her as a nobleman would a courtesan.

_Come to me._

" _No_!" grumbled Adaar. " _I'm not a harlot flipping her skirts on the street_!"

She was offended by his presumptuousness. A spirit, named a god by the Avvar, had entered her quarters uninvited. Adaar suspected he had been lured by her loneliness like a demon of despair. The call had likely been irresistible in the wake of her lover's demise. The Iron Bull's oath, broken by betrayal, had forced Adaar to bloody her blade.

Bull had died by her hand.

A loyal qunari spy to his last breath.

Hakkon was insulted by her outburst. The accusation was unjustified when Adaar was ignorant of the depths of his desire. He wanted her for more than a simple tumble in the furs. Hakkon's face softened. He understood Adaar's reluctance.

Her previous romance had been one-sided. Hakkon had kept Adaar ever in his sight as the Iron Bull had plucked her strings like a minstrel strumming a lute. The deception had been perfect in its execution. She had never suspected her lover's duplicity with the Viddasala. Some lessons were learnt in the hardest of ways.

Trust was not a commodity to be bartered.

Adaar should have been more careful.

Hakkon stepped forward with his hand still outstretched. He waited for Adaar to decide. This was her choice. He could not force what had to come naturally. If Adaar was to take her rightful place at his side then he could not influence her decision.

Adaar's brows furrowed. She glanced from the proffered hand to the deity wearing the shape of a Vashoth man. She knew who he was though she didn't trust him. Her past experiences with spirits in and out of the Fade had been far from positive. Adaar feared possession as much as a mage dreaded being branded maleficar.

"An envy demon once tried to steal my face", she told him. "Is that what you want from me?"

Hakkon's blue eyes smouldered like hot coals. His lips peeled back from gritted fangs. He glared at Adaar, the fury etched into every line of his scowling face. He was not a demon desperate to claw its way into the waking world. The Avvar were like children to him in need of guidance, nurturing, and protection.

They were his people not his puppets.

Adaar saw him advance another step. She was too stubborn to retreat. Skyhold was her home not the abode of Hakkon Wintersbreath. Adaar stood her ground. She was just as proud as the Dread Wolf, but far cannier in perilous situations.

"I guess not", said Adaar. "But you can't have come here just to seduce me".

Hakkon's anger receded in the wake of her revelation. He grinned with a roguish glint in his eye. He had come a long way to gain the object of his desires. Adaar's startled gasp made him laugh again. The husky chuckle earned him a swift reprimand.

" _You arrogant ass_!" barked Adaar. "Just because you show up on my doorstep half-naked doesn't mean I'm going to bed you!"

Hakkon's eyes narrowed. He regarded Adaar with the methodicalness of a seasoned hunter. He knew when to call a woman's bluff. Hakkon's hand dropped to his side. He looked Adaar in the eye as his clawed fingers sank into the black fur guarding his modesty. A deliberate attempt to disrobe provoked an immediate reaction.

Adaar charged across the room. She caught Hakkon's hand before the pelt dropped an inch. She was too incensed to notice his eyes closing as he committed her scent to memory. Adaar lifted her chin, lips pursing to scold him. She froze like a mouse in the shadow of a snake.

She was nose to nose with Hakkon Wintersbreath. He was taller than her by a head and a half, but just the right height to make some things easier. Adaar was tense as a drawn bowstring when his taloned fingers closed around her own. She was ensnared before she could bolt like a skittish horse. Hakkon leaned down to accommodate Adaar.

He savoured the contact when their brows touched. The intimacy of the gesture rewarded and whetted his appetite. Hakkon was pleased when Adaar refused to retreat. He remembered their battle on the shores of the Frostback Basin. She had since faced adversaries worse than a frost-belching dragon.

The tears in the Veil had caused chaos for spirits in and out of the Fade.

Hakkon knew Adaar was more than the Herald of Andraste. She was known to the residents of the Fade as the _Bright Hand_ blazing like a bonfire. Her light had cooled in recent months. Hakkon was determined to coax her into a passionate conflagration. He believed he was the best equipped to withstand the heat of her flames.

"This is madness", murmured Adaar. "You're a spirit and I'm not. We can't be together like this. It's wrong, Hakkon. You shouldn't want me like a man wants a woman".

Adaar tried to withdraw from him without causing offence. She was annoyed when a burly arm hooked around her waist. She was reeled in like a fish on a line. Adaar panted when she was pulled flush against him. She blushed on feeling his rough scales through her clothes.

Hakkon wasn't amorphous like a cloud of locusts. He was real enough to set Adaar's heart racing. She wasn't sure if she was dreaming or experiencing something surreal. Adaar was more curious than afraid when she laid her palm on Hakkon's chest. Her eyes widened when she felt the solidity of living flesh.

Adaar was fascinated by the pebbled texture of his skin. His scales, a remnant of his days as a High Dragon, were soft and dry like cured leather. Adaar traced a pale stripe enclosed by bands of brown with her fingertips. It flowed over his chest to merge with another following the line of his ribs. The unknowing swipe of a clawed thumb over a dusky nipple made him moan.

Adaar froze when his pectoral flexed beneath her hand. She felt the muscles bunching and coiling beneath his scaled skin. She dared not move the fingers surrounding that dark areola. The slightest sensual caress would only excite him. Adaar took a shaky breath when Hakkon dug his talons into the small of her back.

She felt the prickling pressure through the thin layer of her surcoat. She arched like a cat when hard fingers kneaded her spine. Hakkon knew how to stroke and tease to please her. A single yearning glance made Adaar aware of his nakedness beneath the cloak of black fur. It would have been easy to forget the past and live in the moment.

A single impulsive kiss would have begun a courtship long in the making.

"You did this all for me", she whispered against a dusky striped cheek. "I'm flattered by your thoughtfulness, but I can't give you what you want".

Adaar flinched when a clawed hand curled around the nape of her neck. The light scratching of Hakkon's talons over her scalp made her groan. His touch was gentle and deliberate as he tipped her head back. Tresses, the colour of blood, dribbled over his forearm. It was easy for Adaar to surrender control.

The Iron Bull had trained her well.

Adaar yelped when Hakkon grabbed a fistful of her hair. He wrenched her head back to expose the column of her throat. The blood rushed in Adaar's ears when a hot mouth descended upon her skin. She grimaced when sharp fangs grazed over the pulse thrumming with every beat of her heart. The vulnerability and her lack of resistance ignited her rage like a spark to tinder.

He was not her lover.

" _ENOUGH_!"

Hakkon glowered when Adaar struck him in belly. She had thrown enough of her weight behind the blow to send him skidding across the floor. He responded with a growl, fangs bared in a feral snarl, as he caught the first flying towards his face. He had spent centuries sparring with Avvar warriors. Adaar's maddened assault was well within the sphere of his experience.

He could handle a hot-headed Vashoth woman.

" _I killed the High Dragon housing your soul_!" roared Adaar. " _Just_ _like I killed the Iron Bull_!"

Hakkon was ready when a bony forehead crashed into his own. Adaar knew how to compensate for the loss of her left arm. The Dread Wolf had taken her hand to the elbow, but he hadn't cut off her horns. They butted heads a second and third time. The frenzied attack set Adaar's hair ablaze in the firelight.

She burned with indignation.

" _I_ ' _m a murderer_!" she spat. " _Don't you understand_? _Loving me will be the end of you!_ "

Adaar dropped her shoulder low. She charged like a rampaging druffalo. A brief glimpse of the fur riding high over Hakkon's splayed thighs distracted Adaar. She was violet-cheeked when he caught her around the shoulders. A nimble turn on the balls of his feet sent Adaar flying towards the balcony doors.

She grunted when her shoulders struck metal. The glass rattled inside its iron-wrought frame. Adaar took a fortifying breath as she planted her feet. She was bereft of armour and armament, but far from defenceless. Adaar squared her shoulders when Hakkon turned on her. He moved with the grace of a veteran soldier, light on his feet, and with confidence in his stride.

Hakkon revelled in the art of War.

Ire bubbled in Adaar's veins like a heady wine. She hadn't imbibed dragon's blood since the Iron Bull's death. The Way of the Reaver, fuelled by shock and grief, had compounded her fits of ill temper. The moodiness and irascibility were tell-tale symptoms of her withdrawal. Adaar had withstood the cravings for months after the Exalted Council.

Hakkon Wintersbreath, scaled and smelling dragon-sweet, was fast eroding her self-control. The way he stalked her stirred the dying embers of her libido. Adaar had forsworn intimate contact since losing her lover. The certainty of her future had ended when the Iron Bull had sided with the Viddasala. His betrayal had broken her heart.

Adaar refused to repeat history.

" _Touch me and I'll geld you_!"

Adaar was breathing hard, veins afire with adrenaline, when Hakkon pounced. She braced herself for a blow that never came. She jumped when his scaled palms slammed into the iron-wrought doors at her back. The resonant bang trapped Adaar inside the cage of his arms. She lifted her head, eyes blazing, and looked down the bridge of her nose into his icy-blue eyes.

She could feel his muscles clench beneath his skin. The scales ground like the pebbly bed of a river into her surcoat. He had crowded her in until they were eye to eye. Hakkon loomed over her in a mountain of muscle, flesh, and restrained violence. Adaar waited for the inevitable advance coupled with a dose of masculine wit.

Bull had liked to tease her as he took control of their intimate encounters.

Moments passed in an awkward silence. Adaar's brows furrowed in confusion. Men usually did not hesitate to press their advantage with a woman. Bull had taken the position of power in their relationship behind closed doors. He had determined the conditions to keep them safe even if Adaar had set the pace and rhythm of a dance as old as time.

Hakkon's face darkened with desire. He turned his nose into her cheek. His lips parted and teeth gritted as he resisted the urge to initiate first. She was everything he had ever wanted in an equal, but he had decided to proceed with caution. This was Adaar's choice.

She would be bound to him for eternity not a mere mortal lifetime.

Adaar froze when several strands of white hair slid like silk over her skin. The pressure of Hakkon's aquiline nose made her mindful of his closeness. His muscled chest and stomach were separated from her own by a swathe of lush black fur. Adaar wondered what manner of beast had perished to yield a pelt large enough to clothe him. Only a great bear seemed sizeable enough, although she doubted Hakkon would agree.

Gods in her experience were mercurial creatures.

Adaar was bewildered when a clawed hand left the glass behind her. She stiffened when scaled knuckles stroked her cheek. The gesture was tender, almost loving, when Hakkon's hand fell upon her shoulder like a stone. He gripped her arm before releasing her with a disappointed sigh. Hakkon withdrew, head shaking, as he gave her room to breathe.

Adaar stared when he cupped her cheek. His smile was sad and wistful as his taloned thumb stroked her lower-lip. He gave her chin one last affectionate squeeze. Hakkon's fingers opened as he relinquished control. He gave Adaar her personal space like a gentleman.

He left her dignity intact.

Adaar heard the click of an iron latch. She was astonished when one of the balcony doors swung open. Her eyes widened when Hakkon looked to the snowcapped mountains. She gaped when the Avvarian deity passed her by. Realisation dawned as he stepped into the light.

"You're leaving".

White hair rippled over Hakkon's spiralling horns like water over rock. A simple dip of his head confirmed Adaar's assumption. He was proud like the Dread Wolf, but understood the value of humility. He knew when to concede. Adaar would have her way. His attentions were unwelcome.

Hakkon grasped the silken edge of his fur. He threw it high over a broad shoulder before reaching for the hood. He didn't pause when he heard Adaar exclaim. He was unconcerned by the pair of pointed ears, long snout, and fearsome maw filled with jagged teeth. The head of the beast was perfectly preserved down to its baleful glaring red eyes.

"I know that animal!"

Hakkon paused when a calloused hand grasped his wrist. He waited for Adaar to join him on the balcony. He was patient as she stepped outside. Hakkon watched whilst she ran a finger over a triangular ear and down its fluffy edge to a shaggy forehead. Adaar grew bolder as she explored the bony ridge covering the first set of scarlet lupine eyes.

She remembered the frescos painted upon cracked and crumbling walls. The colours faded, but the shapes still recognisable. Adaar had seen a wolf portrayed in shades of grey and black overshadowing a hooded figure. Hakkon's pelt, darker than a raven's wing, sported the head of a wolf with eyes like a spider. Adaar knew to whom it belonged.

"This is the cloak of Fen'Harel", she declared. "The Dread Wolf of dalish legend".

Hakkon's sagacious nod startled Adaar. She had not expected such sincere honesty. The Iron Bull had been forthcoming too, but only where and when necessary. A sudden dread chilled Adaar to the bone. She feared the worst when she questioned Hakkon.

"Is he dead?"

The brisk shake of his horned head was more upsetting than comforting for Adaar. She opened her mouth to ask another question when Hakkon moved lightning fast. She gasped when a clawed hand clamped down upon a wrinkled lupine snout. Adaar recoiled when the Dread Wolf's cloak snapped and snarled as if it were alive. She snatched her hand back as myriad red eyes focused upon her with unerring accuracy.

Fen'Harel was a seasoned hunter.

"Andraste's flaming knickers!" yelled Adaar. " _It tried to bite me_!"

Hakkon chuckled. He was more amused than offended when Adaar scowled. The cloak of Fen'Harel loathed being manhandled. It had a mind and magic all its own. Hakkon calmed the pelt's frothing rage by petting it between the ears.

Adaar eyed the wolf's head as a wet tongue lolled. She had almost lost another hand. She grimaced when a furry black tail thumped Hakkon's hip with a happy wag. The pelt was a contented puppy as its itches were scratched. Adaar was perturbed by the drooping ears, excited yips, and silly dog-like grin.

"Of course Solas had an undead wolf-pelt", grumbled Adaar. "Because a normal non-magical one would be too damned boring. Andraste's tits. First he's an elven god masquerading as an apostate hobo to deceive us mere mortals. Now he's a necrophiliac dabbling in dark-magic".

Adaar glared at Hakkon and his mysterious pet. She hated magical surprises. The Fade was a frightening place for non-mages. Adaar preferred to put a shield and sword between herself and demons. Now she was unarmed and playing host to a spirit disguised as a Vashoth man. The wolf-pelt, more alive than dead, convinced Adaar to interrogate Hakkon.

If he had Fen'Harel's cloak then he knew something about its owner.

"This is wonderful", reasoned Adaar, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Now I can't let you leave".

Hakkon grinned with a flash of white fangs. He considered the red-haired woman chewing her bottom lip. Adaar was still uncertain of her role in their dance of danger and attraction. Hakkon lifted his clawed fingers from the cloak's lupine brow. The wolf whined at the loss of contact.

Hakkon offered his hand in silent invitation.

Adaar glanced between that hand and its keeper. Hakkon's eyes glistened like wet sapphires. The whiteness of his hair and the duskiness of his skin reminded Adaar of snow on a mountaintop. He was like a buck courting a doe. Adaar shrugged her shoulders.

She was used to being the Maker's puppet.

"I can't believe I'm considering this", said Adaar. "Ameridan will roll in his grave".

Adaar lifted her hand in response. She reached for Hakkon, but paused short of accepting his offer. Her fingers hovered tantalising inches above his own. Adaar smirked when his lip curled. His sour expression spoke volumes as a fang glinted in the sunlight.

He was annoyed by her hesitance.

"Do you know where Solas is?"

Hakkon snorted.

Adaar rolled her eyes.

"You didn't go to all this trouble to seduce me without having a back-up plan", she told him. "Since I wasn't won over by your good looks. You brought Fen'Harel's cloak as a bargaining chip. I get it, Hakkon, you're playing for keeps. This isn't a matter of me singing a hymn with my back turned while you untie knots on a coil of rope".

Hakkon's brows arched in amazement.

Adaar grimaced. She recalled an uncomfortable conversation with Svarah Sunhair. The thane had thought it odd that she hadn't wanted to wed the Iron Bull by Avvar tradition. The clan of Stone-Bear Hold considered Adaar family. Svarah had offered to oversee the ceremony.

The Augur had been willing to petition Rilla of the Fireside to bless their marriage.

"Let's just say", explained Adaar. "That I'm well-versed in Avvarian marital customs".

Hakkon grazed the underside of her palm with the tips of his talon. The tempting gesture made Adaar tremble with need. She hadn't lain with a man since losing the Iron Bull. She was too suspicious of lies and half-truths to allow another into her heart. Hakkon Wintersbreath had one quality that overrode Adaar's lingering fears.

He was not a mortal man, but something older, wiser, and far more sincere than a qunari spy.

"Tell me the truth", urged Adaar. "Do you know where Solas is?"

Hakkon was glad he'd heeded his father's advice. Korth had been right. The Dread Wolf's cloak had landed him his prize. Now it was a matter of reeling her in hook, line, and sinker. The First-Thaw would make an interesting addition to the Avvarian pantheon.

"Well?" demanded Adaar. "If you have his cloak then you must know something!"

Hakkon nodded in silent affirmation. He was concerned when Adaar sniffled. The rigid line of her shoulders eased as the weight of responsibility lessened. She laid her hand in his with a sense of relief that left her feeling lighter than a feather. Hakkon drew Adaar into his arms when her composure crumbled.

He laid his cheek upon her crown when the tears fell like rain. His taloned fingers combed through her hair as he offered solace from the grief. Hakkon was surprised when warm lips brushed his chin. He groaned when Adaar nipped him with her sharp teeth. He understood her need as she pleaded.

"I was the Iron Bull's plaything, but never his Kadan. I loved him even if he hated me in the end. I made a mistake when I ordered him to sacrifice the Chargers. I sowed the seed of one betrayal with another. It was inevitable that he'd turn on me".

Adaar appealed to Hakkon with the desperation of a grieving woman.

"The game Bull and I played is over. He's dead and I'm not. I want to forget him and start again. Help me replace the lie we had with something true. Show me how the Avvar fall in love and I will be yours forever".

Hakkon would have been patient if not for Adaar's ardent kiss. The pressure of her lips against his own enkindled his desire. He had borrowed the form of her people in the hopes of winning her over. His appearance at Skyhold had been planned meticulously. Hakkon had bided his time until Adaar was ready to begin anew.

He growled when she bit him. He responded in kind provoking Adaar. He was licked, bitten, and scratched as she scored his back. The taloned tips of her fingers were wicked barbs digging into his scales. Hakkon cupped her bottom as he hoisted her high like a banner in the wind.

Strong legs clamped around his waist. Adaar moaned when she was kissed. She was cradled in Hakkon's arms as he stepped back inside her quarters. The balcony doors closed behind them with a clink of glass and the clank of iron. Hakkon carried Adaar to the hearth where the fire burned red-gold.

The Dread Wolf's cloak fell from his shoulders to pool upon the floor. It whined as Adaar was laid down like a feast upon a banquet table. Hakkon saw her flushed face tinged violet with passion. She was more than he had ever hoped to find in the icy wilds of Thedas. The Iron Bull was a fool to have abandoned her.

Hakkon would not make the same mistake. Where one bond had broken he would forge another steel-strong. Adaar was the spring and he the winter. Where she blazed like a bonfire Hakkon Wintersbreath melted beneath the rising sun. A third kiss sealed their fates.

Adaar welcomed him into the fiery circle of her arms.

The night passed in a heady blur of heat and wanton moans.

They never made it to the bed.

Fen'Harel's cloak was comfortable enough much to Adaar's amusement. She lay with her lover, several hours later, idly running her fingers through soft black fur. The moon was high and the stars twinkled like diamonds in the sky. Adaar grinned when several scarlet eyes rolled back into a furry lupine head. She laughed when a fluffy tail lashed her bare legs.

"You're adorable".

The wolf-pelt whined, tongue lolling, as myriad red eyes closed in half-lidded bliss. Adaar kissed the muscular forearm serving as her pillow. She was tired from their exertions, though she doubted Hakkon had broken a sweat. He had left his share of scrapes, scratches, and bite-marks on her skin. Adaar was glad she was more resilient than a human.

She didn't bruise easily.

"Mmm you were eager", teased Adaar. "All hands, teeth, and claws. I haven't felt this wrung out since I started my Reaver training. Even fighting dragons was never that strenuous. I won't be able to walk in a straight line for a week".

Hakkon grinned as he nuzzled her cheek. He was happy to laze about and enjoy their time together. He finally had what he'd wanted when first she had driven a sword through his eye. The High Dragon, a living prison housing his soul, had died in a burst of golden light. The freedom had felt sweeter than the wind beneath his wings.

"You still haven't told me where Solas is", reproved Adaar. "Or how you found his demonic undead cloak".

Hakkon didn't answer as he drew the fur over them. Adaar needed to rest after so arduous a night. Lovemaking often took its toll upon mortals. Hakkon had fewer injuries than Adaar, but he still sported his fair share of love-bites. His paramour had scratched off several patches of his scales in her eagerness.

Hakkon winced when Adaar ground into his groin. The supple cheeks of her rear-end brushed over several deep scrapes. He didn't bleed like a mortal, but he could still feel pain. Hakkon didn't regret taking physical form to court Adaar. He was free to live, love, and hunt down the elf responsible for creating the Veil.

He had a score to settle with Fen'Harel.

"Sleep my love", he told Adaar. "I will have answers enough for you come morning".

Adaar's lids grew heavy. She was exhausted. She turned her face to Hakkon, lips pursing for a kiss. She made a pleased noise in her throat when his mouth covered her own. He was as tender in this as he had been during their coitus.

"Till morning then", replied Adaar.

Hakkon kissed her brow when she yawned. He was content to watch her sleep. He felt more relaxed than he had in centuries. Moonlight streamed through the balcony's glass doors bathing Adaar in radiant silver. She had dimmed since losing the Anchor, but she still glowed like an ember of a dying fire.

"Till morning", murmured Hakkon. "Then we will plan our wolf hunt. Together. Fen'Harel is living on borrowed time. He will not endanger my people again".


End file.
